What did she think? That a man like Vittorio Ferraro was playing an elaborate hoax on her? That was absurd. She just knew she knew she couldn't take rejection from him, so it was easier to leap on the...
Vittorio, always the one to seek solutions verbally, had no middle gear. Either he was talking logically, or he was acting, and when he went into action, he made every blow count.
Vittorio's breath left his lungs in a long rush of shock. Something tight in his chest loosened. Someplace vulnerable. Someplace guarded and protected. He pressed his hand tightly over the spot, feeli...
Vittorio practiced discipline at all times. This was one of those times when he needed to stay very calm. Deep inside, the volcano that could emerge was at a boiling point.
Vittorio had recognized early on he had a gift. His voice could be compelling, or commanding, and those in a room reacted to it. He could calm others down, arouse or infuriate, all with his tone.
Vittorio Ferraro was the most extraordinary man she'd ever meet and she would forever regret being a coward if she didn't give what had been growling between them a chance.
She'd been drawn to him before she met him. Immense satisfaction filled him. He liked that, more than liked it.
This wasn't about bringing justice to criminals no one else could get to. This was about the knots in his gut that coiled tighter and tighter, and felt personal. Very personal. And that in itself was...
There's always going to be a part of me that is that little girl no one wanted.
There was always a trail, skin cells, a scent, thermal imaging, parts left behind that the riders called prints. Sometimes those proved helpful when tracking an individual, especially if they were fre...
The woman, as small as she was, standing valiantly in the face of the threat the Saldi enforcers presented, sent heat rushing through his veins.
The paparazzi always swarmed around them, giving them better alibis for their work then anything else ever could.
The life was lonely, regimented, dangerous and formidable. Now that he had Grace in his life, even for a short few weeks, he wasn't willing to go back to that stark, lonely existence.
The feelings of conquest and possession mixing with love were a heady combination. Those traits were deep in him and she accepted him without judgment. How could he not be in love with her?
Standing in the mouth of the tube, he needed a few seconds for his body to feel as if it had come back together. There was always the sick feeling that came with fast travel, with being pulled apart a...
Someone to care about him. Someone to be his center. Someone to make him feel alive and passionate about living.
Grace had filled those lonely places, replacing them with laughter and conversation. She'd given him the purpose he needed there in his home to maintain his balance in a world of stark duty.
He was born a shadow rider and trained from the time he was two. There was no other job or interest for him. It was considered a sacred duty and no rider, if he was capable, would ever walk away from...
He was a shadow rider and that meant no one, 'no one' other than family, and even then close family, could the truth about him. She had to be in completely. Committed to him.
He was a complete stranger to her, but he knew that connection between them had started there in the parking lot, their shadows touching coiling together, their eyes meeting.
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